Luke Campbell and the Boy Who Lived
by thomasharker
Summary: Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. Their neighbours, however, were not, and so proceeded to make Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts rather different than expected...
1. The Man at Number Three

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters or ideas, (except the rather less well-written OCs) so don't go getting any ideas.

**Author's Note: **This is my first fic, so any reviews or comments will be welcome. This first chapter is quite similar to the original, so sorry if I've gone too far- the later chapters will hopefully be a bit more original.

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Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

However, the Dursleys also had a secret they did _not_ want anyone to find out about. Whilst they never mentioned it to each other, both knew that if anyone ever discovered the existence of Mrs Dursley's sister and her kind, the Dursleys would never live it down. Their young son, Dudley, was blissfully unaware that his mother even had a sister, and the Dursleys intended to keep things that way.

When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday this particular story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he read the morning paper and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled Dudley into his high chair. "Never leaves the house, either! One can only imagine what he gets up to in there, and him looking after that boy as well!"

Mr Dursley looked up from his newspaper (_Gas leak kills two in unexplained accident_), and looked at his wife. "Who are you talking about, Petunia?" He asked, failing to notice a large tawny owl flutter past the window towards the house next door.

"Him at number three," she said gesturing to the house the owl had flown towards. "Raising a child on his own, and never even leaving the house. Unemployed, I would assume."

"Yes, quite right," Mr Dursley murmured, not entirely listening as he picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye and missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls. "Little tyke," chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.

He had not gone far before he noticed the first of the day's strange occurrences- a cat reading the sign saying _Privet Drive_. No, he thought to himself, that's not right. The cat was just looking at the sign. Nothing unusual about that, he thought, turning back to face the road. Nothing to be worried about at all. His mind returned to the real world and a large order of drills he was hoping to- _THUMP!_

Mr Dursley braked suddenly as a man stepped out in front of him. The man fell over, and there was a nasty cracking noise as his head hit the road. Mr Dursley wound down the window. "Watch where you're going!" he yelled, before realising that the man he had hit was not moving. There also appeared to be a rather large dent in the front of his car. Mr Dursley got out of the car and walked over to the stricken man.

"No, no, I'm quite alright," he said, standing up. "No need to worry. I'm just not particularly used to cars yet. Oh, that looks quite nasty," he said, peering at the dent he had caused. "Let me fix that." Mr Dursley tried to protest, but the strange man had already pulled some sort of device from his pocket and waved it at the car.

"Now hold on," exclaimed Mr Dursley indignantly, "that's just a stick! What are you..." The man stepped back to allow Mr Dursley to inspect his now un-dented car. Mr Dursley's protestations faded as he got back into the car.

"I don't think we've met!" shouted the man through the car window, "I'm your neighbour! I live at number three!"

Mr Dursley ignored him and drove off. Looking back over his shoulder, however, he noticed that the man, _his neighbour_, was wearing some sort of cloak! "Ridiculous," he grumbled to himself. "Absolutely ridiculous."

The rest of Mr Dursley's day went rather well- he yelled at five different people, made several important phone calls and shouted a bit more. On his way back to his car, however, his attention was drawn to a large group of people standing on the corner of the street. Each and every one of them was wearing a cloak similar to that of the Dursleys' unusual neighbour. As he got into his car, he overheard a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"-yes, their son, Harry-"

Mr Dursley hastily shut the door and pulled out of the car park. He was just being stupid, he told himself. There were plenty of people called Potter, it wasn't such an uncommon name, and he wasn't even sure their son _was_ called Harry. It may as well be Harvey, or Harold, or something. He'd never even seen the blasted child. No point in worrying Petunia, he thought, she'll only get upset again.

But at the back of his mind there was a doubt. Having seen that... man fix his car earlier, he couldn't help but wonder if the Potters' lot _were_ involved in this somehow...

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw- and it didn't improve his mood- was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

He was about to shout "Shoo!" at it, when out of the front door of number three came the man he had hit in his car earlier.

"Is he bothering you?" the newcomer asked the cat, which shook its head. Mr Dursley blinked. Looking from the cat-which-had-definitely-not-shaken-its-head to the strangely-dressed-man-who-had-fixed-his-car-with-a-stick, he plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing him all day.

"What the ruddy hell is going on here?"

The cat smirked and walked off.

The strange man from number three did not answer his question, but instead headed back towards his house. He stopped at the front door and looked back at the quietly fuming Mr Dursley. "My name's David, by the way. David Campbell."

Mr Dursley just about managed to utter "Dursley" before turning sharply and heading inside.

Mrs Dursley had had an ordinary day. Mrs Next Door had problems with her daughter, and Dudley had learnt a new word ("Shan't"). After Dudley had been put to bed, Mr Dursley came back downstairs in time to see the last report on the news.

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have been surprised to see the owl population behaving very unusually today. Despite the fact that owls are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been reports of literally hundreds of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise, and nobody seems to be able to tell why they might have changed their sleeping patterns." The newsreader smiled. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Can you predict any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr Dursley gripped the arm of his chair tightly. He was going to have to say something to Mrs Dursley about this- it was too much to be a coincidence. And the Potters had been mentioned too... No, he was just going to have to come out and say it. "Er- Petunia? Have you... er... spoken to your sister recently?"

"No," replied his wife, sharply, "Why?"

"Well, there's a lot of funny stuff on the news- owls and shooting stars and such, and... this morning, there were a lot of strange people in town, and..."

"So?"

"Well, I just thought it might be... You know, some of _her lot_."

Mrs Dursley sipped her tea and said nothing. Mr Dursley decided not to tell her that he had heard the name 'Potter' mentioned, instead saying, as casually as he could, "That son of theirs- he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose so," Mrs Dursley replied stiffly.

"What's his name again? Wasn't it Howard, or something?"

"Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me."

Mr Dursley's heart sank. "Yes," he said weakly, "Very common."

He didn't say anything else on the subject as they went to bed, but later that night he couldn't sleep. Creeping out of bed and over to the window, he could see the same cat, still just _sitting_ there- like it was waiting for something. Mr Dursley got back into bed and tried to stop thinking about it. His last thought before he finally managed to fall asleep was that, even if the Potters were involved in this business somehow, there was no reason for them to bring the Dursleys into it.

If he had stayed looking out of the window for a few moments longer, he would have seen the door of number three open and David Campbell walk out and over to the cat. He would have seen David Campbell appear to talk to the cat, and the cat appear to understand him. And then, Mr Dursley would have seen something very strange indeed, something which would have confirmed his very worst suspicions.

Fortunately for Mr Dursley, he was asleep by that time, and so he did not see these things.

Outside, David and the cat both sat on the wall, staring at the same spot on the corner of Privet Drive. Neither of them moved, except when David occasionally looked at the cat as if to say 'are you sure this is right?'

However, at about midnight David looked at his watch and then at the cat, and the cat looked at David and then back at the street corner. At the point they were both staring at, a man appeared, so quickly it appeared he had sprung out of the ground. This man was exactly the kind of person who would have given Mrs Dursley nightmares- he was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver colour of his hair and beard, both of which reached down past his waist. His blue eyes sparkled in the light of the street lamps, and were hidden behind half-moon glasses, and his nose. His name was Albus Dumbledore. He looked around at his audience- the man and the cat- and smiled. "I thought I might see you here, Minerva," he said, but then turning to David, "and, David Campbell, isn't it?"

David nodded.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I haven't seen you since you left Hogwarts," he said. "Do you live here?"

David nodded again. "Number three," he said.

"Well, I will be with you in a moment," Dumbledore replied, pulling from his pocket what appeared to be a silver cigarette lighter and holding it aloft. He flicked it open and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again, and the same happened to the next one. Another ten clicks, and the whole street was dark. He slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and walked over to where David and the tabby cat sat.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall," he said to the cat.

"Exactly what I said," said David. "She's been here all day."

The cat frowned at him, then looked over at the opposite side of the street. Dumbledore and David turned to look, but there was nothing there. When they looked back, the cat was gone, and instead there was a rather severe-looking woman wearing square glasses exactly the same shape as the markings around the cat's eyes. Like David and Dumbledore, she wore a cloak, although hers was emerald green. Her hair was drawn into a tight bun, and she looked distinctly ruffled.

"Yes, I meant to ask," she said to David, "how did you know it was me?"

"You showed us in Transfiguration in my third year," he replied.

Dumbledore chucked to himself again. "Well, that rather spoils the mystique of it, doesn't it, my dear Professor? And now I think of it, what are you doing here, when you could be celebrating? I must have passed at least a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. "Oh, yes, everyone's celebrating all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' house. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent- I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being careless, out in the street in broad daylight and not even wearing Muggle clothes," she glanced meaningfully at David, "and nobody even seems to know what actually happened." Both she and David looked over at Dumbledore, as if hoping he was going to say something, but when he didn't, she continued. "And a fine thing it would be if, on the day it seems You-Know-Who may have finally disappeared for good, the Muggles found out about us. I..." she looked across again at David, enquiring whether she should continue. Dumbledore nodded slightly. "I suppose he really _has_ gone, Dumbledore?" she said.

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

"A _what_?"

"A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons, but David accepted and grinned as Dumbledore passed him a sticky yellow sweet. McGonagall frowned. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has_ gone-"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person such as yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort_." Professor McGonagall flinched and David nearly fell off the wall, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, appeared not to have noticed. "It gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who'. I have never seen any reason to be frightened of Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding slightly exasperated, But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, _Voldemort_- was ever afraid of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly, "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

David, who had remained silent as he watched the more experienced wizards talk, could not contain himself any longer. "Then how did he die? If he was even stronger than you are, what was it that finally finished him off?" He caught McGonagall's eye and looked a little embarrassed at his outburst. Dumbledore, however, was not at all offended. "Well?" David continued, encouraged, "what was it?"

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, and McGonagall continued for David. "You know what everyone's saying? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she and David had been waiting for. She fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare that David was surprised that he did not flinch. Dumbledore, however, did not seem to have noticed, busy as he was choosing another sherbet lemon.

"What they're _saying_," she continued, "is that last night... _he_ turned up in Godric's Hollow. He was going to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are- are-"

David looked across at Dumbledore, who bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. "Lily and James... I can't believe it... I didn't want to believe it... Oh, Albus..."

"Are you sure, Dumbledore?" David asked. "They're really... _gone_?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore softly, patting Professor McGonagall on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "and they're saying... They're saying that he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy. Nobody knows why, or how, but they're saying that... that that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's _true_?" exclaimed David. "After everything he did, he couldn't kill Lily and James' son? But... but how? How on earth did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore, "We may never know." He looked around sadly as he pulled a golden watch from his inside pocket and examined it. David could not see what it said, but evidently Dumbledore understood because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?" he asked Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," she replied. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"No!" David shouted, glancing immediately around at the houses to see if he had been heard. "Not here?" he asked, a little more quietly. "Not to number four? They're... they're just..."

"You couldn't find two people less like us," Professor McGonagall continued for him, "and they've got a son- I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"I'll take him," said David hopefully. "He can come and live with me. Anywhere but there, Dumbledore. Please."

"It will be the best place for him," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he is old enough. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting next to David on the wall again. "You could never hope to explain all of this in a letter. These people will never understand him! He'll be famous in our world- there will be books written about him- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in future- every child will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all of that until he's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall hesitated for a moment, but changed her mind and said, "Yes- yes, you're right, of course. But..."

David was less accepting. "No, Dumbledore. Please, you _can't_. These people, these Muggles- they're horrible! At least let _me_ tell him. When he's older, I want to be the one to tell him. They'd never do it, never accept him for what he is. I can keep an eye on him, Dumbledore. I'm begging you."

Dumbledore looked hard at David, as if appraising him. "Whatever you do, it is not my business to dictate. However, I must ask you to wait a little longer. He must be allowed his childhood, at least. Let us not deprive him of that."

David looked as if he was going to object, then nodded slowly.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "Hagrid should be here in a minute."

"Do you think it- wise- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?" Professor McGonagall asked Dumbledore.

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," he replied.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to-"

"Wait a minute- what's _that_?" David interrupted.

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence in the deserted street. It grew louder and louder as both Professor McGonagall and David looked around to see where it was coming from. Dumbledore sucked on another sherbet lemon. The sound swelled to a roar as they looked up at the sky- and a huge motorbike fell out of the sky and landed in front of them.

If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing compared to the man riding it. He was almost twice as tall as David and at least four times as wide. David, who had not seen him in a number of years, stepped back in shock at how wild he looked, with his tangles of bushy black hair and the beard that hid the majority of his face. In his immense arms he held a small bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, "at last. Where did you get that motorbike?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing off of the motorbike. "Young Sirius Black gave it to me."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir- house was almost destroyed but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep over Bristol."

All four of them bent over the bundle of blankets. Inside, barely visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. On his forehead was a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that-" David began.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "he'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well- give him here, Hagrid- we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house.

"Could I- could I say goodbye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid.

He bent over Harry and made a noise that David guessed must have been a rather whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall. "You'll wake someone up!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, burying his face in an enormous spotted handkerchief. "I just c-c-can't stand it- they're dead- an' Harry going ter live with Muggles-"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, as David patted Hagrid gingerly on the arm and Dumbledore headed over to the Dursleys' front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets and then came back to the other three. For about a minute they all stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid sobbed quietly, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have dimmed. David's thoughts turned to the future and he resolved to look after the little boy, whether Dumbledore wanted him to or not.

"Well," Dumbledore said finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"You're welcome to come in," offered David, but Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore declined.

"I'd better get this bike away," said Hagrid in a rather muffled voice. "G'night."

He mounted the motorbike again and with a roar it rose into the air and away.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to her as she left too. He turned and walked back down the street. When he reached the corner, he reached inside his robe and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it and the twelve balls of light he had taken from the streetlamps sped back to their original positions. David saw a tabby cat slinking round the corner at the other end of the street. "Good luck, Harry," murmured Dumbledore, and with one last nod goodbye in David's direction, he turned in the air and disappeared.

David pulled his cloak around himself as he walked back inside his house and into the kitchen to get himself a drink. Once he had done that, he crept upstairs to the second bedroom. In a cot in one corner slept a baby boy, only a little larger than the bundle that even now slept on the doorstep of number four.

"Everything changed tonight, you know, Luke," whispered David to his son. "And you won't even remember how things used to be." He smiled and raised his glass. "To Harry Potter- the boy who lived!"

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Sorry if it was a bit too similar to the original, I will try and change more in future chapters.

Thanks to PB Headless, who beta read this for me, and who persuaded me to write in the first place.

Updates will probably be quite slow but hopefully will actually happen- I'm starting 6th form in a week so might be a bit busy. I'll try and get one more chapter in before then.


	2. Dear Mr Potter

**Disclaimer: **None of these characters are mine, except Luke and David. The rest belong to JK Rowling. So there.

**Author's Note: **This chapter is a bit shorter than the first because it doesn't follow the narrative of the book so much, and because you all already know about magic, so I don't have to explain things. Hopefully I'll update more regularly now that I've got going.

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Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the slightly rusted number three on the Campbells' front door; it crept into their living room, where David sat in an armchair watching TV with his mouth wide open. The photographs on the mantelpiece showed just how much time had passed since Harry had been left with his aunt and uncle. Ten years ago, the photos were all of David and his friends, and a few of him as a child, whereas now Luke was older, and the photos showed a brown-haired boy riding his first broomstick, watching his first Quidditch match, playing Gobstones with his dad.

"Dad!" Luke Campbell exclaimed as he entered the room. "Guess what?"

"What?" David said, sounding surprised to have been interrupted.

"I just saw Harry Potter! He's outside getting into the car!"

David sighed. "Yes, alright. He's lived there for at least nine years now- you don't have to tell me every little thing he does."

"Yeah, but he never goes outside, does he? I hardly ever see him."

David smiled at his son. "Alright. Now, have you had breakfast?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Okay, go and get your shoes on. We're going to go and see Arabella today."

"Oh do we _have_ to, Dad?"

David looked apologetic. "She's broken her leg- we've got to go and check up on her."

"But she's _boring_! And she smells of Kneazles. Please, Dad?" Luke whined, but David was insistent.

"She's an old lady, Luke. We ought to look after her."

Luke did not protest any more, but looked rather disgruntled as he went to put his shoes on. David looked out of the window as he turned the television off. The Dursleys, Harry Potter, and another rather scrawny looking boy were leaving number four and heading to the car. He rose from the chair, and ushered Luke out of the front door. Luke looked like he was struggling to say something, but eventually seemed to overcome his fear and said "You're Harry Potter!"

The smallest and skinniest of the boys next door turned, surprised, to look at them. Vernon Dursley grabbed him and forced him into the car, slamming the door behind him.

"Stay. Away. From. Us!" Vernon hissed, glaring at David and Luke.

David put his hand on Luke's shoulder. "Come on, Luke. We'd better get going."

The Campbells set off down the road and Vernon pulled away from the drive towards the zoo. As he drove, he noticed that there was a strange noise coming from the engine. He parked at the end of the road and got out of the car. There, in the middle of the bonnet, was a dent that had not been there since David had fixed it almost ten years ago.

"Dad, why are you smiling?"

"Oh, no reason, Luke. Come on."

Luke and David arrived at Arabella Figg's house about ten minutes later, and she hobbled to the front door to let them in. "Come in, come in," she said, nudging a rather large, flat-faced cat out of the way with her one good foot as she balanced shakily on her crutches.

"How are you?" David asked as they entered the living room and sat down on the moth-eaten, slightly damp sofa. Luke looked warily at the sheer number of cats in the room, and perched himself on the edge of the armrest as a fat ginger cat tried to get his attention.

"Oh, I'm fine, dear. A friend came round earlier with some Skele-Grow, I'll be alright by this evening. What about yourself?"

"I'm alright. Have you heard from Dumbledore recently?"

Luke did not hear Mrs Figg's reply, because the huge ginger Kneazle had jumped onto his lap and insisted it be stroked. He did his best, but the cat was so heavy that he soon became unbalanced and fell off of the armrest onto the floor, narrowly missing squashing another cat in the process. Mrs Figg squeaked anxiously and went over to the Kneazle to make sure it was okay.

The rest of the visit passed without incident (the Kneazle was fine) and an hour and a half later the Campbells walked back to their house. Luke rushed upstairs to his room and David got to work. When Luke came back downstairs later to get something to eat, he asked his dad, "What is it that you do, exactly? For your job?"

David pointed to a rectangular metal device around the size of a small suitcase. "That," he said, "is a piecey. Sometimes called a Mack. My job is to fix them, when the Muggles break them."

"How do you do it? I didn't realise you knew anything about Muggle artefacts?" Luke replied, amazed.

"Well, I sort of... _cheat_ a bit."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you're a wizard, things are quite a lot easier. I just point my wand at them and say _Reparo_. That usually works."

"And if not?"

David looked serious. "There is one thing. But you have to promise me you'll be careful. Don't do it on your own, okay?" Luke nodded earnestly. "There's a button here," David continued gravely. "If you press this, it'll turn off. You have to wait for a bit, and then press it again. It's called a _hard reboot_."

Luke's eyes widened. "Why's it called that, Dad?" he asked, enthralled.

"Because it's... _really_ hard."

"And what about the reboot part?"

David paused. "Come on, time for dinner."

Outside the window, Vernon Dursley was shouting at Harry. "_Car broken! Birthday ruined! Glass vanished! Snake escaped! Cupboard. Now. No food_."

David went outside and over to the garden wall. "Is everything alright? I heard shouting."

Vernon glared at him. "Yes, yes. We're fine. _Get inside!_" The last two words he hissed at Harry, who was lingering to watch. As he ran inside, he happened to put his hand in his pocket and found a packet of biscuits and a sandwich. David winked at him, and Harry smiled gratefully back.

"I'm sorry," said David quietly, "I didn't mean to disturb you." He went back inside and shut the door behind him.

"What was that about, Dad?" Luke asked him.

"Oh, nothing," he replied. He didn't want to upset his son by telling him that his hero was practically a prisoner next door.

He did not see Harry at all for almost two months, prompting him to wonder whether the Dursleys had finally had enough of him and sent him away. His fears were put to rest, however, when he saw Harry emerge from the front door of number four and walk off down the road. David hurried downstairs and ran after him.

"Harry!" he cried, once he was sure he was out of earshot of the Dursleys. Harry turned around.

"Oh, er... Hello," he stammered. "You live next door, don't you?"

"David Campbell," David replied, holding out his hand, which the small boy shook.

"Thank you for the food, by the way. That was very nice of you."

David smiled. He was glad that Harry had not inherited his cousin's manners.

"How did you get them into my pocket, anyway? I didn't notice them get in there."

"Oh... Er..." David faltered, remembering Dumbledore's warning not to get involved with the Boy Who Lived until he was old enough. "What's the date?"

"The twelfth of July, I think. Why?"

"Oh... Nothing. Don't worry about it. I... I'd better be going. It was nice meeting you, Harry."

David turned to walk away, but Harry called after him. "How do you know my name?"

"... Don't worry about that. Soon, I promise."

Harry did not know quite why he should believe the promise of a stranger, but somehow he did. He decided not to mention the meeting to the Dursleys when he arrived back that night, consoling himself with the knowledge that he would find out 'Soon.'

A few days later, Luke rushed down the stairs, excited. "Dad! Dad!"

David knew what was coming, and smiled.

"DAD! I can see an owl!"

"Oh, yes? What does it look like?"

"It's a tawny, I think. Those are the ones Hogwarts uses, aren't they? You said they were, they are, _aren't they_?"

"We'd better just wait and see," said David.

The owl swooped down low along the street and up to the door of number three. Without stopping, it released the letter it was carrying and flew off. The letter shot through the letterbox and onto the doormat. Luke scooped it up eagerly and tore it open. "Dad! I got in!"

David ran out of the living room and beamed at his son. "Congratulations, Luke! You'll be casting spells all over the place in no time, I'm sure." Luke gave the letter to his father, who read it.

"Right, you're going to need a few things, so we'd better go to Diagon Alley as soon as we can. I think..."

"I wonder if Harry Potter's got his letter yet?" Luke interrupted.

"Oh, I expect he has," replied David. "Now, shall we have some breakfast?"

After breakfast, Luke launched into a long explanation of exactly what he wanted to do at Hogwarts. "...and I want to be in... What house were you in, Dad?"

"Gryffindor," said David over the top of the _Daily Prophet_.

"And I want to be in Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw I suppose, but Hufflepuff is a bit boring and Slytherins are evil, so..."

"Luke, not all Slytherins are evil..." David tried to stop his son, but he was too late.

"...and then I'm going to go up to the dormitory and make sure I get a bed by the window, and then I'll unpack and- oh, I'll make sure my bed's next to Harry Potter's, and I want to go to Charms. Charms is a good lesson, isn't it, Dad? Where you learn spells."

"Yeah, Charms is good," said David wearily. Where does he get all of that energy from, he wondered.

"And Transfiguration, and Potions, and Herbology, and Quidditch!"

"I don't think you can do Quidditch in your first year, Luke."

"Yeah, but I can watch. And they teach you how to ride a broom."

"What other lessons, then? What about Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"Who teaches that one?"

David paused. "I don't know, actually. I think it's a different teacher this year."

"Oh, right. Is that another owl?" Luke said, pointing suddenly out of the window.

He was right- another owl, a tawny like the first, was swooping down towards the door of number four. It released the letter, and the two Campbells watched as it flapped away.

"There you go- Harry Potter's got his too. Now, let's go and tell your Auntie Anne." David picked up a handful of Floo Powder from a pot near the fireplace, lit a fire, and threw the powder into it. "17, Montgomery Close, Ottery St. Catchpole," he said, calmly stepping into the fire. Luke followed.

David had suspected that the Dursleys would not be pleased to see Harry's Hogwarts letter, so he was not entirely surprised to see that, the following morning, another owl was gliding down the street towards number four. The next day, the same thing happened. Surely Harry must get his letter soon, he thought. The next day, there were twelve. After that, David noticed a very bemused looking milkman carrying an egg box emblazoned with what appeared to be the Hogwarts crest. If that didn't work, David thought, nothing will.

David awoke early on the next day, eager to see what measures Hogwarts would have come up with to ensure the letters got delivered. Instead, he was surprised to see a single owl coming towards Privet Drive. He was even more surprised to see that the owl was in fact heading to his own front door rather than the Dursleys'. He went downstairs in time to see the envelope land on the doormat. It was addressed to him. Opening it, two pieces of parchment fell out. One was an envelope addressed to 'Mr H. Potter'. The other simply read:

_David,_

_Do your best._

_A.P.W.B.D._

Smiling to himself, David took out his wand and pointed it at the envelope. He knew _exactly _what to do. "_Geminio_," he said. There was a flash of light, and suddenly there were two letters. He repeated the spell until there were thirty or forty letters in a pile on the floor. Then, he conjured a bag to put them all in and Apparated onto the Dursleys' roof. Looking around to make sure there was nobody watching, he opened the bag and tipped the letters down the Dursleys' chimney. Smiling to himself as he thought of the scene that must be unfolding beneath his feet, he turned and Apparated back into the hallway of number three.

"Morning, Dad," Luke said as he walked downstairs.

"What? Oh, morning." David replied, looking distractedly out of the window for any sign of a reaction to the latest batch of letters. He was not disappointed. Around ten minutes later, Vernon charged through the front door and got into the car. The rest of the family followed him hesitantly, Dudley hitting Harry as they went as if to vent his anger at missing his favourite television program.

The Dursleys did not return that evening, nor the next, and David began to wonder whether he had gone too far. Lying awake in bed, he distracted himself by watching the clock tick closer to midnight. 11:58... 11:59... 00:00.

Somewhere out there, wherever he was, it was Harry Potter's birthday.

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_**Phew**_**. I've done pretty much nothing but write that all day. Hope you enjoyed, please review if you did. Thanks!**


	3. The Hogwarts Express

**Disclaimer: **None of these characters are mine, except the OCs. The rest belong to JK Rowling. Who isn't me, by the way.

**Author's Note: **This might be the last chapter for a while, as I'm getting a bit busier from now on, but I'll update when I can. Enjoy...

* * *

The rest of the holiday passed without incident (The Dursleys returned the next day, Dudley clutching his bottom) and before long it was September the 1st. Luke packed away his new books and robes in a battered old school trunk that had once belonged to David, and sat on his bed, examining his new wand for what to David felt like the hundredth time. Although he was underage, the Trace would not work while he was with his father, and so under David's supervision he had attempted a few basic spells.

His new wand was twelve inches long and made of birch, with a phoenix feather core- "Very nice, excellent at Charms," Mr Ollivander had said. Bearing this in mind, David had tried to teach Luke the Colour Change Charm.

"Okay," he said, "Hold the wand firmly, point it at that feather, and say '_Multicofors_'. Now, while you're doing it, you have to visualise the object you're casting it on, and imagine it in whatever colour you want it to turn."

Luke did as he was told. "_Multicolofors_," he said, flustered, as he jabbed at the feather with his wand. It twitched slightly, and then began to grow. David tapped it with his own wand and it returned to its original size. "Try again," he said encouragingly.

"_Multicofors,_" Luke said, more confident. There was a flash of light, and the feather changed to a daffodil yellow colour. Luke grinned.

"Well done, Luke. That was very good. Now, what about..."

"JUST GET IN THE RUDDY CAR! AND SHUT THAT OWL UP!" David was interrupted by a shout from outside. Both Campbells looked out of the window to where Vernon Dursley was attempting to fit Harry's school trunk, Harry, Dudley, and a rather ruffled-looking snowy owl into his car.

"Do you need a hand?" David asked, poking his head around the front door.

Vernon looked at him as if he had just suggested he might want to eat his own foot. "No, I do _not_." And with that, he got in the car and drove away.

"Dad, shouldn't we be going as well?" Luke asked, dragging his trunk through from the hall.

"Yes, I suppose. We can use the Floo Network." Seeing Luke struggling with his trunk, he pointed his wand at it and said "_Locomotor._" The trunk rose a few inches off of the floor and followed Luke back into the living room.

David packed some money for food on the train, and eventually managed to convince his rather morose new owl, Archimedes, to get into his cage. Then, as before, they both took a handful of emerald powder from the tin on the mantelpiece and threw it into the fire. "What do I need to say?" Luke looked questioningly at his father.

"Kings Cross Station," David replied, handing him Archimedes' cage with his one free hand and motioning with his wand for the enchanted trunk to follow them. Luke vanished into the flames, and soon they both emerged in a small, dark room. In one corner sat an elderly wizard, who looked up as they arrived and smiled genially at them.

"Hogwarts, is it?" he asked.

Luke nodded. "Right this way, then, sirs," the old wizard said, leading them to the door and opening it for them. "Platform 9¾ is just over on your left, sirs. And might I say how nice it is to see you. Not many people use the Floo entrance these days."

David smiled at him. "I suppose it's a bit hard to bring your luggage with you through the Floo." The wizard nodded sadly. "David Campbell," David said, holding out his hand.

"Morgan, sir. Alan Morgan."

"Very nice to meet you, Mr Morgan." David and Luke left the room and found themselves on a station platform. Looking behind him, Luke realised that the door they had come through had vanished. He turned back just in time to see someone disappear behind- no, _through-_ the barrier between the two platforms.

"Dad!" He exclaimed, pointing at it. "Over there!"

David followed his outstretched finger and saw what he meant. "Yes, that's it. Let's go." They headed over to the barrier and Luke prepared to go through. He decided it would be better to run. Five metres to go... Four metres to go... Three... Two... One...

"Excuse me?"

Luke was distracted as a voice called out and he missed the barrier, skidding past and coming to a halt some distance past it. He turned his trolley around and headed back to his father. Standing with him were a friendly-looking man and woman, and a girl of around Luke's own age. The man was saying something to David.

"Ah, yes," David was replying as Luke got closer. "All you have to do is walk through the barrier. Don't be nervous, it's quite safe. Ah, Luke. I thought you'd gone through?"

"...missed," said Luke quietly as the girl stared at him rather inquisitively.

"This is Mr and Mrs Granger, Luke. I'm just helping them get through to the platform. They're Muggles, you know."

The girl walked up to Luke. "I'm Hermione," she said rather formally. "Hermione Granger."

"Luke," he replied. "do you want to go through, then? We should get a good seat on the train."

Hermione nodded and took hold of her trolley. Luke lined himself up with the barrier and started running. A moment later, a strange feeling swept over him and he found himself on a busy station platform. On the track, a scarlet steam engine sat, students bustling on and off it as they loaded their luggage on or looked to meet their friends. He looked behind him and saw Hermione emerge from the solid wall, looking surprised but excited by the new world she had found herself in. A moment later, David and the Grangers appeared too, the Muggles looking just as amazed as their daughter.

"It must be weird," Luke said, "all of this?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked him.

"Well, _magic_," he replied. "Dad's shown me some of those Muggle machines- pieceys, I think they're called, and they seemed strange to me, but... I'm used to walking through walls and Apparating and Floo Powder and stuff. If you never had those things growing up, you must think this is all really... _weird_."

"It is a bit... But I've read all of my textbooks at least once each, so I think I have a fairly good idea of at least the fundamental aspects of magic. It's Hogwarts I'm most looking forward to- _Hogwarts: A History _was my _favourite_ of all of the textbooks."

Luke grinned. "Come on, let's find a carriage."

"I'll just go and say goodbye to my parents first- I won't be seeing them until Christmas, after all." Hermione rushed off to where her parents stood looking bemusedly at the assortment of people on the packed platform. David left them to say their goodbyes and wandered over to Luke.

"So, are you nervous?"

"A bit," Luke replied, "but it's exciting, isn't it? And I promise I'll write every week, and I won't get in trouble and I'll do my best in lessons and everything."

"You took the words right out of my mouth," David said, embracing his son. "Good luck, Luke."

"See you at Christmas, Dad," Luke said, as David lifted his trunk onto the train and handed him Archimedes' cage. Hermione hurried back over and stood at Luke's side as they both waved at their parents and went to find seats. There was an empty carriage about halfway down the train, and between them they managed to lodge their trunks in the compartments over their seats. They took the two seats near the window, opposite each other across the table, and looked out onto the platform to find their parents again. As they watched, seven people erupted from the barrier in the wall in quick succession. The first three had vivid red hair. The fourth was Harry Potter. Luke pressed his face against the glass to get a better look.

"Look! It's Harry Potter!" He exclaimed, motioning for Hermione to look.

"Oh, he's the boy who Vol-"

"_Don't say his name!_" Luke hissed.

"Oh... Sorry." Hermione looked embarrassed at having slipped up. "It's You-Know-Who, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But I think that sounds a bit formal usually."

"Right. I'll try and remember that. Anyway," she continued, opening her trunk and extracting a copy of _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. "I got this, for a bit of background reading. I didn't want to stick out for not knowing about current events and such. It must be _such_ an advantage, growing up in a wizarding family."

"Not really," Luke reassured her. "There's loads of people who don't know about magic or anything, and they do fine at Hogwarts. I mean, that's why we're here, isn't it? To learn magic? I only know one spell at the moment, and I only learnt that this morning. You'll fit in fine."

"Well, I have read the spell books and learned a few, but I haven't actually tried any."

"Why don't you have a go now?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't! What about the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry?"

"Nobody'll know. We're in a busy station, there's loads of adults around who'll mask the trace."

"Oh, alright," said Hermione, grudgingly. "_Alohomora_!" She jabbed her wand at the trunk above them on the rack. The padlock she had replaced after retrieving the book sprung open.

"Well done," said Luke. "What else do you know?"

"Oh, only a few. The..." Before she could say anything more, there was a timid knock on the door. Luke and Hermione turned to see a scared round face looking in at them.

It opened the door and asked, "Er... can I come in here? I can't find another carriage..."

Luke and Hermione nodded, and the young boy entered and sat next to Hermione. "Hermione Granger," she said by way of introduction, "and this is Luke Campbell."

The shy-looking boy looked at both of them, then said "Er... Neville. Neville L... Longbottom."

"Pleased to meet you, Neville," Luke said, as Archimedes gave a screech.

"Oh, is that your owl?" Neville asked, looking rather jealous. "I've only got a toad. And I keep losing him..." He pulled a toad from his pocket and laid it on the table. "His name's Trevor," he said.

At that moment, the train gave a loud whistle and began to move. Luke, Hermione and Neville gave their families one last wave before they faded out of sight into the mist.

The journey passed rather quickly after that, with Neville and Luke taking in turns to tell Hermione about their favourite parts of the wizarding world, and with her telling them about things she had read in one of her books. Hermione invariably knew more about magic than either of the two pure-bloods, and so when the food trolley came the boys seized upon it as an opportunity to show her that she didn't know _everything_.

"Anything from the trolley?" The plump witch asked as Neville opened the door for her.

"Alright, Hermione. Try and order without seeing what's there," Luke challenged.

"Oh, okay then. Er... can I have a Pumpkin Pasty and some Every Flavour Beans, please?"

Luke and Neville stared at her, dumbfounded.

"How do you _know_ so much?" Neville was astounded.

"Well, I didn't want to stand out. I just thought I should read up on things so that I knew what other people were talking about."

"And that 'reading up' involved sweets?"

"Of course! Although the one thing I must admit I can't quite see the appeal in is- is it pronounced _Quidditch_? I've only ever seen it written down. But it's like football, I suppose- everyone just seems to get so competitive over these things."

Of course, the mention of Quidditch set the boys off again, although Neville admitted he much preferred watching to playing it. "The only time I ever got on a broom," he said, shuddering at the memory, "I couldn't stop it and I ended up in a pond three miles away."

Luke stifled a laugh.

"Oh, no! Where's Trevor!" Neville looked down at the table which, although it contained several Pumpkin Pasties, Every Flavour Beans, and Chocolate Frogs, was most definitely toad-less.

"Look around, he can't have got far," said Hermione, looking under the table. "He'll be around somewhere. It's not as if he could have got off of the train."

After a search of the cabin proved useless, Luke suggested that Trevor may have escaped when the door was open for the food trolley. Neville yelped and scurried out to search the rest of the train.

"I wonder how much further it is to Hogwarts," said Hermione. "I think it's somewhere in Scotland, so it's bound to be quite a journey, even by train."

"You could always ask the driver?" suggested Luke.

Hermione nodded and went to ask. While she was gone, Luke decided to change into his Hogwarts robes. She arrived back not long later, and said, "Only about half an hour to go now, we'd better get- oh." She had noticed that Luke had already changed. "Well, she continued, you go and look for Neville's toad, and I'll be there in a minute."

Luke headed down the length of the train, peeking into each cabin as he passed, but he was scared to go in any of them. Everyone looked so much bigger than him! He found Neville at the other end of the train, looking rather tearful at having lost his toad, so they walked back down the train and found Hermione. "Have you not found him?" she asked.

Neville shook his head sadly.

"Well, have you asked anyone? Actually gone into any of the carriages?"

Another no.

"Come on, then." She led them back down the train, again, and began knocking on doors and asking people if they had seen a toad anywhere. The first two cabins were full of Ravenclaw girls, the third contained some first-year boys who had not seen Trevor, and the fourth was almost entirely filled by two enormous short-haired boys who looked like rhinos in robes. They sat on one side of the compartment. Lounging on the other, and scowling at Hermione, was a blond-haired boy who looked as if someone had just wafted dragon dung under his nose. Hermione shut the door without saying a word.

The next compartment, when Hermione flung open the door, was occupied by two small boys who Luke assumed were first-years. Then, he realised, one of them was Harry. The other was red-haired and pointing a wand at a sleepy-looking rat.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" Hermione asked them, "Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," the red-haired boy retaliated, but then Hermione noticed the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then." She sat down at the table and watched the wand intently.

"Er- all right." The boy cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid fat rat yellow."

He wiggled his wand and nearly poked the rat, but nothing happened.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" asked Hermione. "It didn't work very well, did it?"

Luke looked at the boy, who was gazing at her with a mixture of curiosity, indignation, and terror. "My dad taught me a colour-change spell earlier. Shall I try it?"

"Er... All right, then."

Luke got his wand out and pointed it at the rat, which was still sleeping. "_Multicofors_," he said, gesturing with his wand and picturing in his mind's eye the rat turning yellow. The red-haired boy gave a gasp of amazement, and Luke saw that the rat had indeed turned a sickly butter colour. He repeated the spell and it returned to normal.

"That," the red-haired boy said, "was awesome."

"Well, anyway," said Hermione, "do any of you know which house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..."

"All my family are in Gryffindor," Ron said. "I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be _too_ bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin"

"That's the house Voldemort was in?" Harry asked, then grimaced as he realised he had said the dreaded name. Luke noticed that Hermione winced slightly when Harry said the word- she was becoming more used to the wizarding world already.

"So what was that spell?" Ron asked Luke, who along with Neville had entered the cabin and sat down.

"Oh, er... Multicofors."

"_Multicofors_," Ron repeated, pointing his wand at his rat, but nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.

"So," said Harry, trying to deflect attention away from Ron's lack of success, "what do your brothers do now that they've left Hogwarts?"

Ron stopped muttering 'Multicofors' and replied "Well, Charlie's in Romania studying dragons and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts. Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_."

Luke and Neville nodded, but Hermione and Harry looked blank.

"There was a break-in," said Neville, "someone tried to get into a high-security vault."

"Really?" asked Harry, "what happened to them?"

"They haven't been caught," said Ron. "That's why it's such big news. My dad said it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they didn't take anything. That's what's so strange about it."

"Everyone's getting really scared because they think it might have been You-Know-Who," added Neville. "But they always do. He was around for so long that it's hard for people to forget."

"Well, you don't remember him, do you?" asked Hermione. "None of us do, we were all too young when... When Harry defeated him."

"I didn't defeat him," Harry protested, "I don't remember any more than you do. I mean, I thought I was a Muggle for ten years. I don't even know what You-Know-Who looks like."

Luke, who had been staring out of the window while the others were talking, snapped his head around suddenly to face them. His eyes were glazed over.

_A tall, pale figure, red eyes glinting in the light of a thousand lamps. He raises his wand and points it straight at a dark-haired young man. There is a flash of green light._

"Luke? Luke! Are you okay?" Hermione asked, clutching his arm.

Luke blinked and looked around. Everyone was staring at him. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Neville, can you lock that door?"

Neville reached over and turned the doorknob so that nobody could get into the cabin from the outside. A moment later, three boys appeared in the corridor outside and rattled the handle. After a while, they gave up and walked away again.

"What was that about?" Ron asked.

"I... don't know," said Luke truthfully. He was just as confused as anyone else.

"Well, we can worry about that later," said Hermione. "The train's nearly at Hogwarts and we still haven't found Neville's toad. We'd better go and have another look. Harry, Ron, you change into your Hogwarts robes."

She stood up and unlocked the door with Alohomora. Luke and Neville followed her.

"My gran'll kill me if I've lost Trevor," Neville whimpered as they walked down the corridor to search the rest of the train.

"Oh, don't worry," said Luke offhandedly, "he'll turn up on the boats."

"What boats?" Neville asked.

Luke said nothing.

* * *

**There, that wasn't _too_ bad. Hope you enjoyed, please review if you did. Thanks!**


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